Wednesday, November 20, 2013

A Passport to the Other Side

Death travels. Death travels
well. Death is a well-versed,
first-class traveler who has landed at every destination. When we think of death, we think “the
ultimate equalizer” or “an inevitability” or “a spiritual catharsis;” but
rarely do we associate death as a traveler.
It traverses every one of us and transcends life’s abodes by acting as
an antagonist. Death, as we understand
it, acts as the antithesis to life. We
see light, we see darkness, we see life, we see death, but this dualistic
approach does not attribute death with enough credit. Death, as a traveler, visits everyone who has
ever-lived; if life traveled, it would not visit everyone who ever died.
Right? There is a substantial difference
between breathing and bleeding, and living.
But death holds no prejudice. It
will pack its bags and pay you a visit; mark on your schedule that you are
going to have to pick death up at the airport on your last day. If traveling had a score sheet or a record,
death would be undefeated.

Art Spiegelman illuminates this
point. Death as a traveler is not a
restricted concept; death’s impression on history, ideology, and consciousness
is profound. What Spiegelman does, is
refresh the readers minds with a repackaging of death. The Holocaust epitomizes the busy travels for
death; it darkens world history, faith in humanity, and overall human
consciousness. The absurdity, the utter
disregard for humanity, the calculated genocide, all accumulate for an
astounding representation of death’s travels.
He was jetlagged in Auschwitz; they must have lost its luggage. The horrid and gruesome nature of the
Holocaust baffles people seventy years removed from the atrocity. Is it a matter of mass death or the manner in
which they died? I would usually side
with the latter, but for this piece, for death to be a traveler, it is just
mass death. People want to hold on to
ideals about life, about flourishing freedom and luscious love, but pay little
attention to the travelling entity, that we call death.

This book, Maus II, conjures up a very interesting
installment and account for the horridness of the Holocaust. Nazi’s extermination of Jews is shocking and
puzzling. But from the perspective of
our consistent and undefeated traveler, it was just another hectic travelling
day(s). Unfortunately, the absurdity of
genocidal extermination exists in human history, but it is also unfortunate
that it clouds our minds. It dilutes or
distorts our perception of death as constant, reaching the destination of each
individual at some time or another. Yes
the Holocaust was shocking and awful, but events like this distance our
appreciation for the traveler. Ernest
Hemmingway once said, “Every man’s life ends the same way. It is only the
details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from
another.” I won’t interpret this quote
or muddy its understated brilliance.

For this
piece, death answers every question for it is the last truth. The traveler busily rushes from town to town,
it takes a breath and realizes it has all the time in the world, it gladly
remarks that there are always new destinations.